28

He had convinced Dorreen to linger, and so she had agreed to nap at work. The third floor of ArtReal contained not only a lounge, but a very nice suite of rooms once utilized exclusively by the creator of the Quasar Program, Walter Neville, a former WWII pilot. After his demise, the well-appointed rooms had been maintained for the use of the facility's next owner, David Roglitz, who had reserved the entire floor for important meetings and the discreet entertaining of dignitaries. So long as the area was available, ArtReal's top scientists, the Quasar Force, and StarNet's highest ranking officers could use it as they pleased. Geoff knew Dory would prefer the comfortable bedroom upstairs over a padded bench in the women's locker room or a couch in the Quasar Force Officer's Lounge.

He exited the stairwell and strolled down the brief hallway to a door on the left. The room was spacious with its own huge, multi-head shower, a king-sized bed, and a television. He concealed the small implements he carried that allowed him to pick most locks, removed his footwear, and crept into the room. Dory had darkened the windows and left a stereo on very softly. The last wisps of an imported incense floated upward from the joss stick she had lit in a far corner, and the space smelled lightly of frankincense, cinnamon and vanilla. She had stripped off her jeans and socks and lay with a faux mink throw draped haphazardly across her middle.

He smiled at her for some moments before he moved over to the chair where she had left her belongings and rifled through them.